


The Middle Road to Burbank

by amythis



Category: Laverne & Shirley (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23081794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythis/pseuds/amythis
Summary: Sometimes the truth lies in between, and sometimes it's on a side street.
Relationships: Laverne DeFazio/Lenny Kosnowski, Shirley Feeney/Andrew "Squiggy" Squiggman
Comments: 77
Kudos: 3





	1. Checking In

It was a hot, sultry desert night when Andrew Squiggman drove an ice cream truck into Royal Cactus, Nevada. In the shotgun seat, Shirley Feeney sighed and folded up the map. They'd been on the road from Milwaukee, Wisconsin for four long days and had almost reached their destination of Burbank, California.

The coyotes were baying under the silvery moon, while in the back of the truck, between licks of a Fudgsicle®, Laverne DeFazio was belting out "Milwaukee Moon" to the accompaniment of Lenny Kosnowski's acoustic guitar.

"I'm tellin' ya, Shirl," Squiggy groused, cranky from having to drive half the day in this heat, "there ain't gonna be no place to stay in this jerkwaiter town."

"Oh yeah, Mr. Smarty Pants, what do you call that?" Shirley asked, pointing at a neon sign, the only sign of life or light on this stretch of road.

Laverne popped her head over the back of the seat and said, "It looks like a cheap, sleazy motel."

"Then it's in our price range," Lenny said, switching to "Home on the Range."

"Don't judge a book by its cover, Laverne," Shirley said. "OK, it's not exactly the Hotel Pfister, but it'll be all right for one night."

"Yeah, burgers can't be cheeses," Squiggy said. "It's the Royal Cactus Motel, so that must mean that it's the only motel in town."

"Maybe there's a Royal Cactus Inn, or a Royal Cactus Arms, or a...." Laverne trailed off, realizing that there were hardly any other buildings in Royal Cactus, and none of them looked like they provided lodging to weary travelers.

"I'm tired of driving," Squiggy said flatly.

"You want me to take the wheel, Squig?" Lenny offered, setting aside his guitar.

"No, I want to get a good night's sleep in this motel," Squiggy said pulling into one of many empty parking spaces.

Laverne thought that was a bad sign, although admittedly they were off the beaten path, since this was one of Shirley's shortcuts. Maybe not many people came through Royal Cactus and that was why there was just the one rundown, unpopular motel. Still, she decided not to argue about it, since both Lenny and Squiggy looked beat from driving.

The boys had packed a lot more lightly than the girls, since they were only coming out to California for their two-week vacation. Laverne and Shirley were moving to California to start a new life, although the optimistic friend was the more excited about it. Laverne mostly just hoped she'd find a job more interesting than bottle-capping, and some cute guys to make out with. These seemed achievable goals.

The girls had overnight bags as well as full suitcases, but the boys carried their belongings in paper sacks. Laverne let herself out the back doors of the truck and Lenny handed the girls' luggage to her before grabbing his bag and Squiggy's. They all set their luggage by the front door of the motel as they entered the lobby.

They knew the routine by now. Shirley, as the most respectable-looking member of the party, would ask about vacancies. It was just a formality this time, since clearly there were at least two vacancies. And this place had to be affordable, even if they were down to their last $10.

But this time when Shirley asked, "Sir, how much do you charge for two rooms that are not next to each other?", the person behind the counter, a fat, sweaty man in this case, said, "A dollar an hour."

Squiggy was the best at math (which was how he'd become class valedictorian on a technicality), so he immediately calculated, "We've got enough for five hours, so we can stay until three."

Lenny whined, "I don't wanna leave in the middle of the night." He and Squiggy had agreed that Lenny would take the first half of each day of driving, since Lenny was the morning person, but 3 a.m. didn't count as morning.

Laverne said, "Excuse us a moment," and led the others down the hallway, where they could talk in whispers out of the desk clerk's earshot.

"Maybe the boys could sleep in the truck," Shirley proposed.

"I ain't sleepin' in the truck that I've been stuck in for four days," Squiggy whispered back furiously.

"Maybe we could sleep in shifts," Lenny suggested, although he didn't think anyone would want to be woken in the middle of the night.

Laverne shook her head. "No one's going back to the truck until we leave in ten hours."

"But, Laverne, Squiggy's right." Shirley looked as if it pained her to admit this. "We don't have enough money to cover a whole night in two rooms."

"That's why we're taking one room for all night."

The other three stared at Laverne.

Then Shirley whispered even more quietly, "You want us to sleep with Lenny and Squiggy?"

Squiggy made a kissy-kissy face and Lenny bit his hand.

"We'll get a room with two beds. It'll be fine." Laverne went back down the hall before Shirley could argue with her.

"Shirl and I get dibs on the bed closest to the laboratory," Squiggy said, emphasizing the second syllable of the last word.

"OK," Lenny breathed, not caring where his bed would be, as long as Laverne would be in it.

"You and I are not sharing a bed, Andrew," Shirley said indignantly.

"All right," Squiggy said reluctantly, "I'll take on Laverne. Len, you've got Shirley tonight."

"Um, thanks," Lenny said, trying to hide his disappointment, not wanting to offend Shirley. After all, Shirley was a very pretty girl and he could have and had had worse.

"Neither of you has got me. I'll sleep with Laverne."

"Can we watch?" Squiggy leered, and Lenny bit his hand again.

She glared at them and then went back to the lobby, where to her great surprise, Laverne was now waiting in line with about half a dozen couples. Shirley looked out the window and saw that the parking lot had filled up in the few minutes since they came in.

Laverne waved her friends over and then pushed her way to the front of the line. "Excuse me, we were here first."

The desk clerk took a puff of his cigarette like he had all the time in the world. "Yeah?"

Blushing, or at least pretending to blush, Laverne said sweetly in what Shirley suspected was an imitation of her, "The four of us are on our honeymoon." This captured the interest of all the impatient, disgruntled people Laverne had elbowed out of the way. She hastened to add, "As two couples."

"It was separate weddings," Lenny chimed in. "See, me and Laverne are Catholic, but they're Protestant."

Squiggy nodded. "I'm Lutheran. And what are you again, Bunny Belly?"

Shirley managed not to glare at him but instead looked at the desk clerk. If they were going to do this, then it was up to her to be spokeswoman again, especially since she could play a blushing bride a heck of a lot better than Laverne could. "The point is, well, obviously we'd all like privacy on our honeymoon, but money is tight."

Squiggy put his arm on her shoulders and said, "Snookums and I are saving up for our first home, split-level ranch style."

She resisted the urge to shake him off, partly because he remembered what her dream house looked like, even if he'd forgotten her denomination. "So we'd like to share a room, the four of us."

"How many beds?"

"Two," Laverne said, reaching into her purse, and trying to ignore the tall stranger breathing down her neck, as the woman next to him irritably tapped one foot.

"That's a buck and a quarter an hour."

"You said a couple minutes ago it was one dollar even!"

"Yeah, for one bed in one room."

Laverne looked at Squiggy, who said, "That's eight hours for ten bucks."

She slapped their last two fives on the counter and said, "We'll take it."

The desk clerk put the money in the till and pointed at the sign-in register.

She hesitated and then looked at Lenny. Maybe the husband was supposed to sign it.

"You do it, Punkin Princess," Lenny said, his hands shaking with nervousness.

Squiggy grabbed the pen before she could, writing "Andrew and Shirley Squiggman," with a big flourish, like he was signing the Declaration of Independence. Laverne sighed as he handed her the pen and she wrote as neatly as she could, "Lenny and Laverne Kosnowski." She couldn't help remembering when Lenny had offered his last name to her and her unborn but nonexistent child three or four years before.

The desk clerk handed Shirley the key, since she was the most respectable-looking. "Enjoy your stay at the Royal Cactus Motel. Next!"

The foursome got out of the way of the line that shuffled forward like a zombie mob. They collected their luggage and headed for the room that matched the number on the key.


	2. Sleepwear

By the time they entered the motel room behind the girls, Lenny was a little giddy and giggly. He knew that probably nothing was going to happen in a dark, sleazy motel room that hadn't happened in dark movie theaters, or in Laverne's living room lit only by her television set. After all, even if Laverne were interested, how far could they go with Shirley in the room? (Squiggy would be no barrier of course, although he might complain about not having a dame of his own.)

Still, Lenny couldn't help thinking how happy he would be if this really were his honeymoon with Laverne. So he said, "Well, Laverne Kosnowski. I guess tonight's the night we finally constipate our marriage. In the Biblical sense."

Laverne knew she had to talk sense to him, make sure he didn't have the wrong idea. "Lenny, Lenny, I am not the Promised Land." She pointed out which beds they'd be sleeping in, giving the boys the one closest to the bathroom, as Squiggy had requested.

"I don't know, Laverne, this could take some of the bliss out of our connubials." He giggled again.

Squiggy heard Lenny and Laverne flirting, so he called, "Oh, Mrs. Squiggman," while standing near his "bride."

Shirley turned and snapped, "Don't ever call me that!"

"Why not?"

"Let me put it to you this way. If you were the last man on Earth and I was the last woman on Earth, the human race would die out."

"We could always adopt."

Laverne wouldn't have gone that far in rejecting Lenny. After all, seven years ago, when she thought their lives were all in danger, she'd suggested to Shirley that they lose their virginity to Lenny and Squiggy. Shirley had of course rejected the implication that she give herself to Squiggy, but Laverne had felt like Lenny's dopy grin would've been nice as one of her last sights on Earth. Then again, it would've been hard to explain to St. Peter.

"You just might change your mind, Shirl, when you get a load of me in my love clothes." Squiggy had packed them, hoping to get lucky on the way back to Milwaukee, or even in Burbank, once they ditched these girls. But he didn't think Shirley could resist him in his special sleepwear, not that she'd let him get much sleep. Well, Lenny would drive in the morning, so Squiggy could sleep in the truck on the road. And he knew that he had only to give the word and Lenny would lure Laverne out to the truck and fill her with fudgicles and whatever else she wanted, so Squiggy could have some alone time with Shirley.

Of course, there was the danger he might have to actually marry Shirley. He'd known for years that she planned to marry him, despite what she told everyone about wanting to marry a doctor. How likely was it that a doctor, or a lawyer or an Indian chief, or any man who was born into the middle class was going to choose a bride from Knapp Street? A self-made millionaire, like Squiggy would be someday, would in contrast appreciate a loyal, hard-working girl like Shirley. But he was still too young and poor to settle down. Still, she might expect him to make an honest woman of her if he had his way with her. Well, he'd cross that bridge when he swam to it.

Laverne chortled. "What, did you borrow Hector's Valentine shorts?"

Lenny wagged his pointer finger at Laverne. "Now don't you be thinkin' about another man's underpants on our wedding night, Mrs. Kosnowski."

Laverne rolled her eyes and said, "We girls get first dibs on the laboratory," with the Squiggian pronunciation.

"We men will change out here," Lenny said.

"No peeking, Sugar Duckling" Squiggy warned coyly.

Shirley gagged and fled into the bathroom, Laverne following her.

Squiggy changed into his red long johns, leaving on his black briefs and black undershirt. He didn't want to drive poor Shirley completely mad with desire.

Lenny wished he'd packed sexier pajamas than the Bullwinkle ones, but he hadn't expected anyone to see them on this trip besides Squiggy. Even if Laverne didn't want to fool around, she would still see him wearing them and she'd laugh. Still, it was better than if he slept in the raw and she laughed at that. Not that he would in front of Shirley of course.

"Laverne, you can't wear that!" Shirley whispered, hoping that their voices wouldn't echo in the bathroom.

Laverne wriggled into the black teddy she'd ordered from Frederick's of Hollywood months before she knew she'd be moving near Hollywood. "I'll put my robe over it."

Shirley thought that might be OK, since Laverne had a blue sleep robe and would just have to keep it closed at all times. But then Laverne put on her black peignoir. Shirley scolded, "Laverne!"

"What?" Laverne said, putting her blue robe on over that.

"That's better, but is it wise?"

"I'm tired of wearing the same jammies every night without washing them."

"Couldn't you put them on over the teddy?"

Laverne sighed. It was too hot to wear so many layers, but it was also too hot to argue with Shirley. And if Shirley was going to spend the night in white pajamas, a pink robe, and pink fuzzy slippers, then Laverne would also dress like this was winter in Wisconsin, not summer in Nevada. She reached for her own pajamas, robe, and slippers, but she left the teddy on, as her little secret from her "husband."


	3. Bedtime Chores

After Squiggy changed into his love clothes, he was surprised by Lenny suggesting, "Maybe we should pray." In some ways, his best friend was as innocent as a little lamb, or as a big moose in his Bullwinkle pajamas. But there was no harm in this innocent indulgence, despite their religious and other differences. Squiggy nodded and knelt on the side of the bed closest to the bathroom, while Lenny knelt facing the bathroom.

_Are You there, God? It's me, Andrew. If it's not a sin, can You see that we get something off the girls tonight? After all, they're the only game in town and we're on the road. Besides, a man has his needs._

 _Dear Lord, it's me, Leonard Kosnowski. Sorry I haven't been to Confession in awhile. I'm still in love with a Catholic girl, if that counts for anything, to You, not to her, which I know it doesn't. I'm not going to pray that she falls in love with me tonight, or that she pretends we're really on our honeymoon. But if You could make her give me a real kiss, like the time me and Squiggy took the girls to the fancy restaurant, then I'd sure appreciate it._

Squiggy wondered if they were supposed to pray out loud, so he said, "Bless all our friends back in Milwaukee and our sisters and of course Heckle and Jeckle."

"And bless the host of _Death Valley Days_ ," Lenny said because they were in the Far West.

Before Squiggy could add to the list, he heard the bathroom door opening and saw Lenny clumsily scrambling to his feet. He rose more slowly and saw the girls cross the room over to the other bed. They were both dressed even more modestly than Lenny, which didn't bode well, but Squiggy wasn't going to give up yet. So when Lenny giggled and suggested a little TV and Bosco before they all retired, Squiggy suavely added, "You know that the French say that _The Tonight Show_ starring Johnny Carson can be used as an African-disiac."

Laverne was about to point out that it was too early for _The Tonight Show_ since it wasn't even 10:30 yet, but Shirley flatly told the boys, "No TV, no Bosco, no cigar."

"Well, of course there's no cigars yet. That doesn't come until the baby's due." Lenny giggled at his own wit, and Squiggy chortled, but Laverne went over and slapped Lenny.

"Don't get in a snit, Laverne," Shirley said, stripping the top sheet off their bed. "Help me with this."

Lenny watched the girls hang the sheet from the ceiling fan and said, "Wow, a Murphy sheet!"

"This reminds me of a black-and-white motion picture I once saw where Clark Grable was forced to hang his shorts to protect him from the feminine wiles of Claudine Colberet."

Laverne couldn't help thinking of how the sheet fell in _It Happened One Night_ , but she knew Shirley wanted some privacy in the shared motel room, so she helped her friend and again didn't argue. Then she got into bed with her, while the boys "retired" to the other bed.

The boys made suggestive sounds on the other side of the sheet, and Laverne did her best to ignore them, but Shirley said, "I mean really! You two ought to be horse-thumped!"

"Mebbe so, mebbe so," Squiggy said, "but we'll be horse-thumped with smiles on our faces."

Lenny giggled, which was no surprise, but then Shirley's stomach growled in a very un-lady-like way, which surprised them all, her included.

"Excuse me," she said blushing and waiting for her friends to mock her.

Lenny did giggle a little again and she thought she heard him whisper, "I thought women didn't get hungrier until after sex."

But Squiggy's hand came around the sheet and he said, "Here's a quarter. Go get yourself something from the vendetta machine in the lobby."

Shirley looked down at the coin he'd placed in her palm. It was surprisingly thoughtful of him, but it wasn't enough.

"Thank you, Squiggy," she said as she got out of bed and set the coin on the mattress. "But I think I'll call room service. Maybe we can leave an hour or two early so we can eat now."

They had stopped for a late breakfast in a diner in Denver, Colorado, but that was twelve hours ago. By the late afternoon, Laverne and the boys had broken into the stash of ice cream that came with the truck, making Lenny concede, "I guess it's just as well we didn't get the garbage truck with no garbage."

As for Squiggy, he insisted that they leave enough ice cream for him and Lenny to sell on the California beaches, to make a little money off this "busman's holiday."

Shirley had resisted temptation and stubbornly stayed in the front seat, absorbed in the maps, saving herself for Mr. Defazio's free and good brunch the next day. His franchise of Cowboy Bill's hadn't officially opened yet, but she preferred his home-cooking to fast food anyway. Still, she realized now that she wasn't going to make it through the night without eating something substantial. She knew that a cheap motel like this wouldn't have very good food, but it was better than nothing, and better than whatever she could get out of a vending machine for a quarter.

Laverne was going to object that a cheap motel like this was unlikely to offer room service, when she heard an indignant voice from the other side of the sheet thunder, "Woman, are you insane?"

Squiggy raced over to Shirley, who had just picked up the receiver, and he wrenched it out of her hands. As Laverne watched in disbelief from her bed, Squiggy unplugged the phone and tossed it out the window!

The sheet was in the way, so Lenny couldn't see anything and could only hear the sounds of a struggle and then breaking glass. "What's going on?"

"I'm preventing a robbery," Squiggy heroically proclaimed.

"Gee whiz! Who's the robber?"

"This innocent-looking young woman, who wants to rob our communal funds and your sleep!"

"Lighten up, Squiggy," Laverne said. "Do you think the window and the phone cost less than whatever Shirley could order, even if she had pizzas and Chinese food delivered from Vegas?"

"Yeah, it ain't like I'm gettin' any sleep over here anyway," Lenny whined.

"You can't just go around destroying property when you're upset," Shirley scolded, getting over her initial shock. "What if I were to hit you with this?" She picked up a lamp with a base shaped like a golden boot.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"You're right," she admitted, handing it to him. Then she took a landscape painting off the wall (not at all desert-themed, looking more like a Pacific Northwest forest) and bashed it over his head, knocking his nightcap to the floor.

"For Pete's sake, Squiggy," Lenny said, still not clear on exactly what sort of scuffle had broken out at the other end of the room but knowing that at this rate he wouldn't get any sleep, "break into your secret stash and feed poor Shirley!"

Squiggy had been about to make a pun about being framed, but with them all turning against him, even Lenny, he knew it was no use fighting it anymore. Still, he protested, "Quit badgering me like a unruly mob!", so they wouldn't think he was giving in too easily.

"He's got a secret stash of food?" Laverne asked, wanting something other than ice cream as a midnight, or 10:30, snack.

"Nah, he's got a change purse under his undershirt," Lenny ratted out his best friend.

"I'm sorry I hit you, Squiggy," Shirley said sweetly, removing the fractured painting from his waist. Then she cozied up to him, playing with his hair-worm and resting her head on his shoulder. She cooed, "Please, can you spare a little bit of change for a poor hungry girl?" Her other hand coyly teased his chest, trying to find the change purse.

"How stupid do you think I am?" Squiggy fumed, but he didn't move away.

Laverne had to bite her tongue, not wanting to interfere with Shirley's technique for manipulating men, especially if there was any chance Shirley would bring her something back from the vending machine.

"I think you're very clever, Squiggles, especially with math and money."

"Well, that's true. Very well, I'll accompany you to the lobby and help you make thrifty purchases from the choices on display."

Shirley decided it was better than nothing, and Squiggy couldn't choose anything too bizarre from that limited selection. "Thank you, Andrew," she said and stepped away from him and towards the door, which she opened.

Squiggy sighed, set down the lamp, picked his nightcap off the floor, and followed her out, closing the door behind him.

Lenny went over to inspect the damage by the broken window. "Should I go get my pocket tools from the truck?"

"Nah, just help me take down the sheet so we can hang it up over the window."

"What's going to protect me from your feminine wiles, alone with you in a dark, sleazy motel room?" Lenny giggled.

"For one thing, the fact that Shirley and Squiggy will be back any minute."

"Oh yeah." He tried to hide his disappointment.

They draped the sheet over the window as best they could, although he said, "The breeze was kinda nice in this heat."

"Yeah, but I wanna watch a little TV before I fall asleep, and sound won't travel as much through the sheet."

He grinned. "Yeah? Should I go get the Bosco?"

She sighed but said, "Yeah, why not?"


	4. Nightcaps and Midnight Snacks

Squiggy hit the vending machine so hard that if it were a pinball machine, it would've lit up with the word "tilt." It still refused to give either Shirley's first selection or Squiggy's quarter. Trying to hide how much his hand hurt, Squiggy said, "What a rip-off! Let's get the desk clerk and demand a refund."

The lobby was now empty and, not coincidentally, the word "no" now appeared in front of "vacancy" on the neon sign that they could see through the window.

"If you do that," she whispered, just in case someone might overhear them, "I'm going to have a hard time not admitting I broke a painting, or telling him what you did with the phone."

It figured that a dame like Shirley would crack so easy. He knew he had to distract her, so he suggested, "Why don't we adjourn to the truck and you can have all the ice cream your heart and mouth desire?"

Was this a trick? Did he hope to take advantage of her, too far from Laverne's protection? Or was he just trying to be nice?

Maybe she shouldn't have said anything about telling the desk clerk, guilty though she felt. Squiggy's head seemed OK, at least if compared to the damage the lamp would've done, but she still shouldn't have destroyed the painting, even if she were crazed with hunger.

Would the desk clerk want to help them? Maybe he'd say that they were at their own risk using the vending machine. And maybe the motel didn't actually provide room service, at least not that late in the day.

She ended up listening to, not her heart or her head like usual, but her stomach, which growled again. So she let it lead her and Squiggy back to the parking lot. Since neither of them wanted to return to the room and explain to their friends, they couldn't change out of their sleepwear, from her pink fuzzy slippers to his long white nightcap.

....

Laverne had to invite Lenny to sit on the foot of the bed with her, since he had put the Bosco in a thermos for the long drive, and the only cup they had was the thermos top. She figured he'd behave that close to the door, not to mention the broken window.

Lenny tried to keep his hands from shaking as he poured Laverne a cup of Bosco and passed it to her. It wasn't like they'd never watched TV alone together, although never before in a motel room in their sleepwear. He had to remind himself that their petite but feisty chaperone was only a few yards away in the lobby. If she'd break a painting over Squiggy's head just for throwing the phone out the window, what would she do to Lenny if he got fresh with Laverne?

Laverne looked down at the cupful of chocolate syrup. "You don't got milk?"

Much as Lenny loved Laverne, he never understood her need to put milk in perfectly fine liquids, like Pepsi and Bosco. But he just shook his head and didn't argue.

Laverne hesitated before she said, "I've got something," and went to her suitcase. Introducing alcohol into this strange evening was probably a mistake, but she couldn't drink straight Bosco. And it wasn't like she'd never gotten drunk with Lenny before, although never alone, in pajamas, in a cheap motel.

Lenny hoped Laverne hadn't been keeping milk in her suitcase, because that seemed really unhygienic, especially in this heat. He was surprised when she returned with four little bottles of alcohol, like the kind you could buy on an airplane. "What's this?" he asked as she handed him one.

"A bon voyage gift from Big Rosie."

He looked at it more closely. "Champagne? Why didn't she just give you one regular-size bottle?"

"She said it would be easier to pack, but I think she was just being a cheapskate."

"Are you sure you wanna drink it now?"

"Well, I was gonna save it until we arrived safely in Burbank, but what the heck."

They unscrewed the tops and then toasted to "the rest of the trip."

There was no way to mix the champagne and Bosco except in their mouths, a swig of each alternating. Lenny couldn't help thinking about what it would be like if Laverne drank the champagne and he poured the Bosco from his mouth into hers.

He leapt to his feet. "Warm in here," he mumbled and went over to the wall by the bathroom door. He turned on the ceiling fan.

With the fan on, Laverne couldn't hear the TV as well, not that she'd been paying it much attention. It was an old black & white Western movie she didn't recognize. She wanted to turn up the volume, but her hands were full. "Len, could you take back the Bosco?"

"Yeah, sure." He returned to her bed but didn't sit as close this time.

"Thanks," she said as she handed him the thermos, then she got up and made the television a little louder. When she came back to bed, she sat just as close to Lenny as before and said, "It looks like Squiggy's taking Shirley to an all-night diner or something. So there's no point in saving the rest of the champagne for them."

"Or the Bosco," Lenny murmured, unable to believe his luck.

....

"What would you like, Little Girl?" Squiggy asked with a leer.

Shirley knew that anything she answered would be taken suggestively, but she nonetheless ordered a Creamsicle®. She wanted the refreshing coolness of vanilla ice cream and the orange sherbet shell, especially in this heat.

He surprised her twice, first by taking a Creamsicle out of the ice chest and handing it to her without innuendo, and then by taking out a six-pack of Shotz. "You want one?" he asked as he flipped the new tab on the can that had come in as part of the automation that eliminated the need for human bottle-cappers in her old department.

She hesitated for two reasons. One, she and Laverne had sworn to give up drinking Shotz after they were fired. And two, drinking alone with Squiggy in their sleepwear seemed like a very bad idea.

"Don't worry," he said. "I've decided not to put the moves on you."

"You have?" she said warily, as she took the polka-dotted wrapper off her frozen treat.

"Yeah, number one, I don't want Laverne to beat me to pulp fiction. Or you, considering your assault upon my person for merely defenestrating a telephone."

She felt too guilty to giggle. She reached out with her hand that wasn't holding the Creamsicle and said, "I'm sorry about that." She removed his nightcap and stroked his hair, ignoring the grease and trying to see if there was a bump. "Does it hurt?"

"No, it feels nice," he said surprisingly softly.

"I mean from the painting."

"Nah, I've got a hard head."

She moved her hand away, suddenly aware she was expressing affection towards Squiggy without an ulterior motive. "What's the second reason?"

"I ain't gonna let no dame, especially a virgin, trap me into marriage."

She managed not to laugh or glare. "I think I made myself pretty clear on where I stand on marrying you."

"Yeah, but you might change your mind if we had inebriating voe-dee-oh-doe. So you know what? I think I'll keep you away from the beer."

"Are you saying you think you can control yourself better while drinking than I can?"

"Well, you are Irish."

Ignoring that slur, and the fact that alcoholism ran in the Feeney family, she demanded, "Give me that beer!"


	5. Inebriation

After Lenny polished off his second little bottle of champagne, his head felt lighter than usual and Laverne looked even more kissable. He faked a yawn and said, "Well, I should probably turn in if we're gonna get an early start tomorrow."

Laverne felt oddly disappointed. She wanted to kiss him goodnight, and she wasn't sure if that was entirely due to the champagne bubbles or sugar rush of Bosco. But he got to his feet before she could lean towards him, and she wasn't going to chase Lenny Kosnowski across the room like he was Fabian or something. "Well, goodnight, Len. Thanks for the Bosco."

"Thank you for the champagne," he said as he tucked himself into bed.

Neither of them mentioned that Squiggy and Shirley still hadn't come back from the lobby yet. Maybe they really had driven to an all-night diner, although there couldn't have been one for miles around. What if it took them an hour or more to find a place to eat, and then an hour or more to drive back? They might not return until 2 a.m, or later. Laverne couldn't help thinking that she wasn't going to get any sleep until Shirley got home, and she wasn't used to being the roommate who waited up.

"Hey, Len," Laverne said, climbing up onto the bed rather than tucking herself in, "I bet I can jump higher than you can."

"Yeah, right. I'm taller than you."

"But I'm a better athlete," she said, starting to bounce on her bed.

He couldn't resist that challenge, even though he was clumsier than her. He threw back the covers, scrambled to his feet, and started bouncing on his bed.

It wasn't the sort of fun in bed either of them was used to, but they both squealed and giggled. They both loved the circus, and this made them feel like a trampoline act.

"Catch me, Len!" she called and leapt from her bed into his arms.

He did catch her, but now he didn't see how he could resist kissing her. Before he could, she leapt back to her bed. He decided to go after her.

It seemed like everything happened at once, so that looking back, Laverne wasn't sure of the exact order of events, just their consequences. She landed so hard on her bed that it broke. Lenny's bed broke either from her extra weight or from his last jump. Her blue robe caught on the fan, so that it peeled off her and broke a fan blade. The blade just missed Lenny's head as he fell between the two beds, but it hit the TV hard enough for a permanent cancellation.

....

Squiggy was impressed. Shirley matched him chug for chug, while going through the Creamsicle and an Eskimo Pie. And she seemed just as sober as he was, until she started crying in her beer.

"What is it now?" he asked impatiently. He'd provided food and drink, without even expecting anything for them, like he would on a date.

"I miss Carmine!" she sobbed, her tears plinking on her beer can.

"It's only been a few days."

"I know but I don't know when I'll see him again."

Squiggy was not good at comforting women, or anyone really, not even Lenny. His old man, who left when Squiggy was nine and Squendolyn was seven, taught him that any emotions except greed, anger, and lust were signs of weakness, while those three emotions were the ones that his foster mother tried unsuccessfully to squelch in young Andrew. His old lady and stepfather always treated him like a burden, so he wasn't going to go to them with his problems. He looked down on but needed the soft hearts of his kid sister and best friend.

He set down his almost empty third beer can and awkwardly patted Shirley's shoulder. "There, there. Don't cry." That only made her cry harder, so he decided to try logic. "It's not like you was ever gonna marry the guy."

"Well, no, but that doesn't mean he's not special to me."

"Then he'll always be a part of you, even if you never see him again."

Shirley blinked through her tears. That was one of the wisest things that Squiggy had ever said to her, both sad and hopeful. "I guess so," she said quietly. "But I'll still miss him holding me and touching me."

Squiggy said, "You poor, lonely, naivable girl," and put his arms around her.

....

Laverne peered down at Lenny's greasy hair and said, "I don't think you have a bump."

"No, I didn't hit the ceiling, and the fan didn't hit me."

She would've felt his head like Shirley had felt Squiggy's after breaking the painting, but Lenny seemed all right, just a little stunned. She stopped squatting between the beds and straightened up, but then she felt dizzy.

He patted one of her swaying knees. "You all right?"

"I think I'm gonna puke!" she said and raced into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Lenny carefully got to his feet, feeling a little dizzy himself. He went over to the bathroom and tapped on the door. "Laverne, can I help?"

He was so sweet. And she realized that it was unlikely that Shirley was around to help her, because their friends would've come back by now if they hadn't driven off to find non-vended food. And that meant that Lenny couldn't drive to a drugstore. "Thanks, but what can you do?"

"I could rub little circles on your back and hold your hair out of the way." It was what his mother did once when he was three and she had one of her rare motherly moments.

Laverne smiled despite how lousy she felt. "OK, well, at least to the hair part."

He opened the door and sat on the floor next to where she was kneeling in front of the toilet.

She put her face back over the bowl but said, "I feel self-conscious now."

"Pretend I'm a doctor," he said, as he gathered her hair in one hand, making her laugh, thinking of how many guys had said that to her under very different circumstances. And this was more like something a nurse or a parent would help with. Well, OK, and a close friend.

She tried to vomit but couldn't manage to do more than retch. Even the fudgicle wouldn't come up. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I can't."

"You want me to get Squiggy's quarter off the floor? I could get you something from the lobby." Maybe she just needed more solid food than ice cream to puke properly.

She shook her head and turned away from the toilet. "Let's just sit here for awhile."

"OK." He stroked her hair and made little circles on her back.

"That feels nice," she said softly.

"Thanks." He really wanted to kiss her, but he was sure she'd slap him for making a move like that when he was just supposed to be a comforting friend. Not to mention that a bathroom floor wasn't the most romantic setting.

Laverne normally wouldn't have tried to kiss a guy after almost throwing up in front of him, but nothing about her relationship with Lenny had ever been "normal." So she leaned forward, whispered, "Whisper," and tilted her head.


	6. Double Makeout

The rational part of Shirley couldn't believe she was in Squiggy's arms, in an ice cream truck at night. But the emotional side of her found it comfortable and comforting. She might blame it later on Shotz and ice cream, but at that moment it had more to do with this strange man being a familiar sight on the edge of a brand new world.

They would argue, decades later, when her grandchildren thought she was just a sweet, little old lady, over who kissed whom first. At the time, they blamed each other. She had been saying for years how repulsive she found him, so how could she admit that she wanted to be affectionate with him? As for Squiggy, he'd stolen lots of kisses over the years, but he could never admit how much he longed for her to freely give him another kiss of gratitude like the one she planted on him for the double date at La Fondle, or whatever that classy French joint was called.

Shirley closed her eyes as they kissed and thought about thinking about Carmine, who she did genuinely miss already, particularly after all their kisses goodbye. True, he had said he'd save up money and move west to be with her, but she knew there was a chance some other girl could come along, especially since Shirley couldn't offer him sex, in or out of marriage.

She didn't think about Carmine because, one, it wouldn't be fair to Squiggy, and two, she remembered the great Squiggini's magic trick. Squiggy had tied Shirley and Carmine face to face, so they decided to spend this literal closeness kissing. To everyone's surprise, including apparently his own, Squiggy ended up between Shirley and Carmine, facing her. Shirley kissed the short man in front of her, until Carmine spoke. Then she opened her eyes and screamed. She didn't have a chance to dwell on it, even if she'd wanted to, since she was soon swept up in Laverne's latest family drama. But on some level she'd known the truth: she had enjoyed kissing the man in front of her, until she realized it was Squiggy.

He was a good kisser when he wasn't rushed, and, despite the fact that Lenny and Laverne must be wondering by now why they hadn't returned from the lobby, it felt like they had all the time in the world. Squiggy was a very thorough kisser, getting his tongue all in and around her mouth as soon as her lips parted. And his lips, which had made kissy-kissy faces at so many girls over the years, proved remarkably flexible when they had an equally talented mouth to work with. And good girl though she was, Shirley prided herself on her kissing skills.

Damn, this dame was a good kisser! No wonder Carmine had stuck around all these years. Throw in a little necking and this was probably better than sex with some women. Laverne was supposed to be the wilder one, but Squiggy knew you had to watch the quiet ones, especially if you got them liquored up.

At the same time, he had to keep in mind that this was Shirley Feeney, the virgin who he might end up marrying for real someday. He had to keep her pure for both their sakes, and not just because Laverne might beat him up if she found out. And Squiggy would have to face a certain overprotective ex-boxer back in Milwaukee, who would of course be jealous of Squiggy's prowess.

He would have to be morally strong, even as he sweated in the ice cream truck. But when she shed her pink robe and murmured, "So warm," he knew he was probably not going to leave Nevada without at least getting thoroughly necked.

....

For a girl with an upset stomach, Laverne had delicious breath, although the champagne and Bosco helped obviously. Lenny of course kissed back, even if her timing was a little weird. Well, Laverne was a little weird, but that was part of what made her so fascinating.

After the kiss, she said, "You're a real sweet guy."

He never knew how to react to that compliment. It always seemed to be attached to a "however" with her. It wasn't like sweetness was the main quality Laverne looked for in a guy. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"You wanna make out?"

"Always," he admitted.

She chuckled. "Yeah, me, too."

"I meant with you."

"Oh, Len." She kissed his cheek.

He expected her to give him the however now, but instead she moved her mouth back to and then soon with his mouth.

She knew that Shirley definitely wouldn't approve, but Shirley was probably miles and hours away. And maybe it was the champagne, but she really wanted to make out with Lenny. And he obviously really wanted to make out with her, so where was the harm?

She grabbed his collar as she started to blow in his ear. He giggled and said, "You've got me by the Bullwinkle."

He was wearing a very silly pajama top with Rocky and Bullwinkle, like he was six years old. He still looked less ridiculous than Squiggy in "love clothes," although Laverne had kept her promise to Shirley and not laughed in the boys' faces. (It was Shirley who had scolded Laverne for laughing when the boys showed up in tuxedos for the double date to the fancy French restaurant, but how could Laverne resist, especially with Lenny wearing his cummerbund like a brassiere?) She now had to resist the urge to crack a joke, like "I'm taking the Bullwinkle by the horns." She was well aware that Lenny would do whatever she wanted right then, and Shirley's old warnings that it was up to the girl to control how far things went took on fresh meaning. She figured she'd risk undoing a couple of his buttons and necking.

....

The rational part of Shirley's mind, already blunted by three cans of Shotz, faded further away as Squiggy licked her neck. She knew she was supposed to be disgusted by this but it felt nice. Well, not nice, since there was nothing "nice" about Squiggy, but it was pleasant. OK, it was stimulating. She knew Laverne and everyone would be shocked that Shirley was finding herself attracted to Squiggy, but it turned out he was nearly as good at makeouts as he'd always claimed to be.

Squiggy felt like if they were standing up, his leg would bend, like it did during the post-La-Fondle kiss. He was having trouble keeping the rest of his anatomy from responding to her, especially her coy sexiness, like the way she was now playing with not just his hair-worm but the bit of chest hair peeking out of his undershirt. He had the feeling that she wasn't going to let him play with her chest. He didn't expect her to let him go any further than Carmine had, so he wouldn't go below those shoulders she could shimmy so well.

So there they were, Shirley pleasantly surprised by the makeout and Squiggy figuring God had heard his prayer and given what He could, short of a miracle. If they thought at all about the friends they'd left in the motel room, Shirley would've guessed that Laverne would've at most given Lenny a pity goodnight kiss before they went to sleep in separate beds, and Squiggy would've reckoned that Lenny would be hopeless without Squiggy as an immediate role model and at best would get a pity goodnight kiss before they went to sleep in separate beds. Laverne and Lenny figured their friends were bickering before, during, and after a midnight snack in some all-night diner. None of the four of them could've imagined that a double makeout was in progress.


	7. North of the Border

"Laverne," Lenny couldn't help whining after several minutes of makeout, "this floor is kinda cold."

Laverne thought of suggesting they go to her bed, but then she remembered she'd broken it. Also, a bed seemed more serious, and she could only imagine what Shirley and Squiggy would think if they walked in on them making out on a broken bed. "Let's stand up," she said.

They got to their feet, both still a little dizzy, although less from the champagne and trampolining than from necking. She hugged him, partly for support. She could feel how fast his heart was beating and how shaky his arms were as they wrapped around her back.

"It's OK, Len, it's just me, your old pal Laverne."

"I know," he breathed, unable to say that that was why he was so nervous and excited.

She pulled away and sat on the counter, next to the sink, looking into his big blue eyes. "Look, Len, I really wanna keep making out with you, but you can't take it too seriously, OK?"

For answer, he lunged for her neck. And as he nibbled and sucked but didn't give hickeys, one of life's great mysteries was solved for her. She'd never been able to reconcile two sides of Lenny, although sometimes she thought it was a case more of Heckle and Jeckle than Jekyll and Hyde. How could he be both the shyest boy she knew and a pervert who liked to grab and/or kiss girls, including her and occasionally Shirley, without warning? Sometimes she blamed Squiggy, because the boys usually did it as a team, but why then did Lenny initiate it sometimes, like at the bus station when she was about to leave for New York?

The answer apparently was that Lenny was scared of women. So sometimes he had a crippling shyness and sometimes he tried to imitate Squiggy's genuine confidence, as compensation. She still didn't get why he should be scared of her, a girl he'd known since childhood, not to mention someone who was not a raving beauty. If she'd known that she was his ideal woman, she would've pitied his poor taste.

OK, so Laverne wanted to keep this casual. Lenny knew he couldn't relax, so he would be intense, but in what he hoped would be in a cool way. And he knew that Laverne sometimes liked a touch of the caveman, if not taken to extremes.

Once Laverne got over the surprise of Lenny's passion, she enjoyed it, although she was going to have a harder time putting on the brakes. She decided to keep going until she felt uncomfortable, or until their friends returned.

She ran her fingers through his hair and found that the grease bothered her less than she expected. It reminded her of making out with Fonzie when she was younger. And if her fingers got too greasy, she could easily wash her hands.

Lenny knew that voe-dee-oh-doe was probably off the table, since she was "not the Promised Land," but necking was clearly OK, judging by her reaction to his sudden forwardness. He decided to head a little further south, although he definitely didn't have Shirley there to keep him on the right road.

When Laverne felt Lenny starting to undo her pajama top, she knew she had to say something other than "Mmm, Lenny!" and similar. She didn't want him to stop, but she did have to prepare him for what he was about to find. "Uh, Len, I've gotta tell you somethin'."

He had just undone her top button. That sounded more like a "slow down" than a "stop," a yellow instead of a red, but not a green either. He stopped licking her earlobe and looked into her green eyes that revealed her hard head and soft heart. "Yeah, what?"

"Well, it's about what I'm wearing under my pajamas."

"You stuff like Shirley?" He tried not to show his disappointment. It wasn't just that Laverne's chest was smaller than advertised, since he was more of a leg man anyway and she had gorgeous gams. It was that she'd lied to everyone about her figure.

"You know about Shirley?"

"Laverne, the whole neighborhood heard you yell it out your window."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot." She felt a little guilty about that, years later, but then again, Shirley was leaving everyone but Laverne behind on Knapp Street.

"Squiggy didn't believe it, but he sort of puts Shirley on a pedestrian, thinks she's 99 and 999 percent pure or something. I asked Carmine and he admitted it's true 'cause she's let him him feel her up up there. Um, I wasn't supposed to tell anyone."

"It's OK, Len, I already knew." About both the stuffing and the light petting.

"Right."

"Anyway, I don't stuff. They're real."

He couldn't help grinning. "I'm glad."

"Good. But I am wearing a couple extra layers under my pajamas."

"Yeah?" He undid another button and felt under her top, his hands meeting a soft, sheer yet fluffy fabric. "Laverne! What a nice surprise!"

"Thanks, but there's more."

"Wow!" he said and eagerly unbuttoned the rest of her buttons. He peeled off her top to reveal a filmy but fluffy black robe. He was very pleased but also confused. "Why were you wearing two robes tonight? Plus pajamas."

She wasn't yet ready to tell him about the teddy, wanting to surprise him with that, too. "Shirley made me put on the pajamas, even though it's so hot, because she thought I didn't look decent."

"You look beyond decent, Laverne!"

She snorted. "Well, thanks."

"Can I take off your pajama bottoms, too?" He really wanted to see her legs now.

"Uh, let's stay above the waist tonight, OK?" She figured that was a reasonable limit, keeping with what she'd said about them not "constipating their marriage in the Biblical sense," as he'd put it. They could have a lot of fun with their top halves after all.

He nodded happily. "That still gives me a lot to work with!"

She laughed and then gasped as he yanked the train of her peignoir out of her pajama bottoms and then started unfastening the tie at the top. She was still getting used to this Lenny, a blend of shy and bold. She liked it, but it was an adjustment.

While Lenny was impatient to actually get to the layer of DeFazio flesh, he was enjoying all these teasing layers of clothes, especially the black undergarment that was under the black robe. There were thin black straps and then a very plunging neckline. Her very real boobs were almost spilling out of the bra part, but there was sort of a griddle or maybe even cosseting connected to that. "What do you call this?" he asked, his fingers playing with the straps.

"Cleavage," she said in her direct way.

He blushed. "I meant the negligence."

"Oh, it's a teddy."

"Named after President Rosenfelt?"

"No, after Senator Kennedy."

"Well, it sure makes your 'Bobbies' look good." He guffawed.

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks." She thought about saying something about his "Lyndon Johnson," but she resisted.

He lightly stroked her exposed skin and seriously whispered, "You're so pretty, Laverne."

She blushed and whispered back, "Thank you."

"Thank you," he said, not unlike the time she kissed his cheek for helping her work through her feelings about her dead mother. This time though, he was thanking her for letting him touch her below her shoulders and above the waist. She soon felt like she really should be thanking him, again and again.

They started necking again, and this time she was the one trying not to leave tell-tale hickeys. There was an unspoken agreement that they wouldn't speak of this night to anyone, especially not their best friends. Her reasons for not telling Shirley were obvious, but Lenny felt like it would spoil the specialness of this night to report it to Squiggy as locker-room talk. That Squiggy was spending part of the night with a priss like Shirley only reinforced Lenny's vow of selective silence.

Lenny's hands wandered across her chest and stomach, but mostly her chest of course. Whether he was on the teddy or her skin, he added to the heat of that night, but she wasn't complaining, even as she sweated more the fewer clothes she had on.

After awhile, Lenny peeled down the straps and kissed her shoulders. Then down, down to her exposed skin, nuzzling and nudging the sides of her breasts.

"God, Lenny!" she gasped and then more calmly told him, "It fastens in the back."

She didn't tell him how it fastened, so he had to figure it out by touch. It was a combination of hooks, a zipper, and a bow. He didn't understand why women's underwear had to be so complicated, but he supposed it was worth it.

She sighed happily as he undid the back of her teddy and then rolled the top down enough to further expose her chest. Then she couldn't help moaning as Lenny really went to work on her boobs. As she caressed his hair and face, she could feel his grease and sweat dripping onto her, but there was no way she was stopping this.

Lenny knew this was probably his only chance to go this far with Laverne, so he was going to make the most of it. He'd ignore the crick in his neck from this tricky angle, the heat of an un-air-conditioned Nevada motel bathroom in the summer, the possibility of their friends walking in on them, and the fact that this was just a friendly makeout to her. As for the fact that soon they'd be living hundreds of miles apart, well, he'd miss her terribly, but maybe it would be easier for both of them to act like this had never happened if they weren't seeing each other every day.

Her chest was so soft, and too big to stay perky without support, so his hands took over from the teddy. He sometimes looked up at her half-closed eyes, but mostly he focused on the very pleasant task in front of him.

Lenny was really good at this, so good that she wished they'd done this years ago, or at least that she hadn't let Shirley talk her into moving halfway across the country. Yeah, she knew they couldn't actually date, but it suddenly seemed a shame for this to be just one crazy night. Well, she'd just have to enjoy his passion and sensitivity, his hands and his mouth, while she had them. Tonight at least, he was all hers, above the waist anyway.

Tonight Laverne was all his, above the waist anyway. He kept his mouth and one hand still on her chest, but he rolled her teddy down to the waistband of her pajamas so he could stroke her stomach. He noticed that it was as tan as her shoulders, while only the most private section of her chest was pale. He knew that she took advantage of the intro-mittens Milwaukee sunshine as much as she could, turning Italian bronze, while Shirley sheltered her Irish rose complexion. He couldn't help imagining what the bottom piece of Laverne's bikini covered, and whether she'd seek out nude beaches in California.

He moved his mouth south to her belly, while keeping one hand squeezing and teasing her chest. He couldn't help hoping that even if they were staying above the waist that night, she'd give him a goodbye-for-good before he and Squiggy took the long road back to Milwaukee.

As Lenny played with one of her breasts and licked her navel, Laverne was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her promise and her pajama bottoms. Maybe they should go to bed, especially if their friends really were hours away. She wondered if the coinbox on the bed still worked, if the bed would vibrate for a quarter, even if it was lying on the floor. Well, they could provide their own vibrations.

She was just about to say something, when she heard someone calling her name, and it wasn't Lenny.


	8. AWOL

When Squiggy's hands wandered to the top button of Shirley's pajamas, she was tempted to let him keep going. But she felt she'd gone far enough with a man who, one, she wasn't dating, and two, was Andrew Squiggman. "It's getting late. And we'll have to get an early start tomorrow."

He knew he had pressed his luck. But as he always told Lenny, you have to take chances in life. He would've tried to make Shirley change her mind, but he knew she was right. "You go on ahead. I'm gonna clean up the truck a little."

She looked guiltily at the ice cream wrappers and empty beer cans. "Do you want some help?"

"Nah, it's my fault we went out here."

"Thank you." She kissed his cheek and then backed away, so things wouldn't escalate again.

"No problem," he said as he watched her put her pink robe back on. He really wanted her to stay. He really wanted her to go.

She said goodnight and left out the back doors, closing them behind her. She decided it was probably better if she returned alone, although of course her friends knew she left with Squiggy. She could lie more easily on her own, or at least omit details, if she didn't have to worry about him blurting something out. She thought of saying they'd walked to an all-night diner, but as she passed the other vehicles in the parking lot, she was sure there was no place like that in Royal Cactus. Maybe they'd driven someplace that would be open, westward, since it would be a long way back on the road they'd come into town on. Maybe she could claim there was another, bigger town just down the road. She'd managed the maps, and Lenny and Laverne had been in the back anyway, singing along with his guitar. But they were bound to wonder why she hadn't had Squiggy drive just a little further to this imaginary larger town.

She decided she would admit to eating ice cream in the truck, but she would of course leave out the makeout. It would never occur to any sane person, herself included, that she would willingly not just kiss but neck with Squiggy, so she would just act embarrassed about her sweet binge, and endure Laverne's teasing about the health nut falling off the wagon.

She'd left her watch in the motel room, so she had no idea what time it was. Too much time for her to have just been eating ice cream? Well, maybe she could claim they'd been talking all this time, since they had talked a little.

She didn't know if she missed Carmine less now, but she knew she couldn't entirely blame their separation, or the beer, for what she'd done with Squiggy. Maybe with the first kiss but not the whole makeout. Well, soon she'd have a new life in California and she probably wouldn't see Squiggy again for years after that. In an odd sort of way, she'd miss him, and Lenny, but this was for the best.

She still had the room key, tucked into her pajama pocket when she and Squiggy went to the lobby to try the vending machine. She'd leave the door unlocked for Squiggy, since it couldn't take him that long to tidy up, especially given the boys' idea of "clean."

The room was still unlocked, which seemed unsafe with so many strangers around, although of course this wasn't a big city. Then again, Laverne and Lenny probably hadn't expected them to be gone so long and may've fallen asleep while waiting. She opened the door as quietly as she could, expecting the lights to be out and not wanting to wake her friends and have to explain her prolonged absence.

Her first surprise was that the lights were still on. She noticed that the sheet had been moved to cover the broken window, with the picture frame helping to hold it in place. She felt guilty about that, but she figured she could throw herself on the mercy of the desk clerk when they checked out the next morning. First, she'd give Laverne a quick explanation for her absence and then she'd get some sleep. However, she noticed that her bed was broken. In fact, so was the other one. And the ceiling fan, and the television set.

Laverne and Lenny were nowhere in sight but there was a light on in the closed bathroom. "Laverne?" she called as she went over to the bathroom door.

After a pause, her best friend said, "Shirl?"

"Vernie, are you all right?" It was possible that someone had broken in and vandalized the place.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just give me a couple minutes."

She knew that Laverne didn't like to be rushed in the bathroom. That didn't explain Lenny's absence, but Shirley could wait until Laverne finished up. And at least this wasn't a worst-case scenario. Shirley felt a wave of dizziness mixed with sleepiness. She sank onto the nearest bed. She would just rest for a moment while she was waiting for Laverne.

By the time Laverne emerged from the bathroom, Shirley had passed out on the bed that was supposed to be the boys' that night.

....

As soon as Shirley closed the back doors, Squiggy got some napkins and took care of his excitement. That dame was really getting to him, and that was just from necking! He let his imagination free to picture what would've happened if he'd unbuttoned her pajamas and she let him keep going and going. Then he switched to her in a Playboy bunny outfit, but white, in keeping with her teasing purity. And then he put them in the motel room, with Laverne and Lenny absent, since that would be more comfortable than the truck. (Maybe he'd put Lenny and Laverne in the bathroom. That wasn't really his concern.)

Shirley's skin was fair and unblemished, all over. And so soft, as soft as her face and her bobbed hair. And she would be sweet and eager as he awakened her, made her into a woman, his woman. And if he had to make her Mrs. Andrew Squiggman in truth, well, he could do worse. He might even give her babies and a dog if she insisted.

Luckily, this was just a fantasy and he didn't have to worry about logistics, not so much positions (since he had a lot of theories on that), as where they'd live, since she was becoming a California girl and he was still a die-hard Wisconsinite, even if he preferred the Pirates to the Braves. He'd probably get a goodbye kiss out of her before he took the long road back to Milwaukee, even if he had to do it out of sight of Laverne. DeFazio wouldn't beat him up for necking, would she? Well, it wasn't like Shirley was gonna run and blab to her roommate, was she?

After Squiggy finished up, he threw the napkins in an empty paper bag and then added the ice cream wrappers and empty beer cans. Then he left the truck and locked it up, just so vandals wouldn't break in before they left at six the next morning. He found a dumpster behind the motel and tossed the bag in. He'd wash his hands when he got back to the room.

He was of course surprised to see that the room had been further damaged after he and Shirley went to the lobby. He noticed Shirley asleep in his bed, which was now broken, so he had to whisper his scolding at the other woman, who was sitting cross-legged at the foot of the broken bed closest to the door, "Laberne, what havoc have you wrecked?"

"We had some champagne," she mumbled.

"Champagne?! That's the devil's vodka!" 

She crossed her arms. "Well, you smell like a brewery!" she hissed.

"Don't change the object! And what you have done to Lenny?"

"He's in the bathroom."

"No doubt puking his poor guts out." Now Squiggy would have to wait to wash his hands. He stumbled over to the other bed and nudged Shirley over to make room. He needed to lie down while he waited.

She wrapped her arms around him and snuggled close. Part of him knew that this would look strange to Laverne, but it felt really nice.

"Goodnight, Shirl," he whispered and then kissed her on the forehead.

"Goodnight, Pookie Bear," she whispered back.

In less than a minute, they were both fast asleep.


	9. Heatwave

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just give me a couple minutes."

Shirley didn't reply, not even an "all right," but Laverne thought she could hear her friend stepping away from the door.

Lenny mouthed, "What now?" He was no longer kissing her stomach and had straightened up.

She whispered, "I'll go out there first and maybe I can talk them into going back to the lobby to get me something to eat."

He whispered back, "There's that quarter of Squiggy's on the floor."

"Yeah, I just hope they don't make me go myself instead."

"Uh, Laverne, maybe you should go with them to keep them away extra time."

She was puzzled and then looked down at the top of his pajama bottoms. She was flattered although not too surprised. She patted his arm and then hopped back to the floor. She quietly sang a stripper tune and lowered her pajama bottoms enough for him to get a good look at the rest of her teddy.

"Laverne!" he groaned quietly, but she couldn't tell if he was begging her to stop or to keep going.

She knew that with their friends waiting in the next room, she'd better put all her clothes back on. She did it while softly humming the stripper tune, as Lenny's eyes devoured her.

She gave him an enthusiastic but quick kiss on the mouth before slipping out of the bathroom. She opened the door as little as possible, hoping to keep Shirley and Squiggy out of that room. Then she noticed Shirley passed out on the boys' broken bed. Laverne bent over the bed and noticed that Shirley's pajamas were stained orange and brown, and she smelled like beer, probably Shotz.

Squiggy was nowhere in sight. Laverne shut the bathroom door and went over to wait at the foot of the other broken bed. She wanted an explanation but was not looking forward to offering one herself.

When Squiggy came in, he also smelled of Shotz, but Laverne had to confess to drinking champagne to sort of explain the damage to the room. They argued, but quietly and briefly, so as not to wake up Shirley. Squiggy assumed Lenny was in the bathroom throwing up, rather than performing another bodily function. He then crawled into bed with Shirley, who woke up enough to snuggle happily with him. They were soon both out like a light. So Laverne got up and turned out the lights. Then she crawled into her own bed, under the covers, despite the sultry Nevada night.

....

As Lenny washed his hands afterwards, he stopped thinking about how sexy Laverne was and started wondering what lies she had told Squiggy and Shirley to explain the wreckage in the living room and their, especially his, long visit to the bathroom. He'd play along with whatever she said, because she was smarter than he was, and better at lying.

He splashed water on his face and thought about taking a cold, or at least cool, shower, but he knew he'd been in there long enough. So he pulled his pajama bottoms back up and prepared to face the mucus. 

The lights were off and it took his eyes a moment to adjust. Then he thought he was seeing things because it looked like Squiggy and Shirley were snuggling like two poky little puppies. Lenny couldn't help exclaiming, "Awww, they're so cute!"

Laverne shushed him and beckoned him over. She was sitting up under the covers, at the head of the other broken bed. He made his way slowly and carefully, not wanting to wake their friends. Then he sat Indian style on top of the covers, close enough that he and Laverne could talk in whispers.

"They're passed out drunk," she said.

"Squiggy always was a cheap date."

"They're both lightweights. I mean, they're little compared to us. And they had beer instead of champagne."

He frowned. "That six-pack was supposed to be for a surprise picnic at the beach we was gonna invite you girls to before we head back to Milwaukee."

She smiled. "We could still go. But I don't think the four of us should drink together."

He blushed and nodded. Then he sighed and said, "I'll get her feet and you can take her head."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, we need to carry Shirley over to this bed."

"Let's just leave her until the morning. She looks comfortable where she is."

"Where am I gonna sleep?" He hoped she wasn't going to say the bathtub.

"In your marital bed of course."

His eyes widened and he whispered even more quietly, "You mean it?"

"We're gonna sleep together like a couple that's been married for fifty years."

He thought they'd be like his grandparents, two old people who were still hot for each other, but he knew what she meant. Even if they just snuggled like Squiggy and Shirley, that would be really nice.  


He nodded and she grabbed the wood dowel hanging from his forehead. "What's this?"

He'd forgotten he was wearing a plunger. "Oh, right. I put that on to distract them from us vandella-izing the room."

"It makes you look like a unicorn."

He thought of how his tenth-grade teacher gave him a mythology book the year he had ringworm. He'd read that unicorns love purity and innocence and they can only be captured by virgins. That didn't exactly apply to him, so he took off the plunger and tossed it on the floor.

Laverne threw back the covers and he snuggled next to her, also sitting up. She hummed something in his ear and it took him a moment to recognize "Heatwave" by Martha and the Vandellas. He whispered the backup in her ear.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah," she concluded in a hot breath.

"...Burnin', burnin'."

"Len, we're gonna have to wake up really early."

"Yeah?" He would love to wake up with her while their friends were still asleep.

"Yeah, because there is no way we can face the desk clerk after what we've all done to this room."

"Oh, right. Do you think five o'clock would be OK?"

"Probably, but I don't think there's a clock-radio or anything."

"If there were, we probably would've broken it."

She snorted. "Yeah."

"It's OK. I'm a morning person and I've got a really accurate infernal clock, like a Swedish watch."

"All right, but we should probably go to sleep now."

He sighed and nodded. They burrowed under the covers, despite the heat of the night and of their bodies. Well, they could shower in the morning, probably separately, especially if they wanted to leave before six.

"Goodnight, my hub-a-dub-dub."

"Goodnight, my wifey-lifey."

Only one of them was kidding, but they both kissed goodnight and kept it un-blissfully short.


	10. Restitution

Laverne lay on her couch, bored out of her skull. Not that the last couple days hadn't been exciting, but that seemed to have died down, along with the worst symptoms of her "24-hour" flu.

She'd had to miss the Happy 50th party at Cowboy Bill's. It was just the 50th day since that particular franchise of the chain opened, but it was an excuse for a party.

It turned out that everyone was going to gather in the girls' apartment the next night, but not for a party. There was going to be a sort of trial to figure out who was going to pay for the damages to the Royal Cactus Motel. It had taken weeks for the boys to be tracked down, especially since the ice cream truck had Wisconsin plates but they'd moved to California, right after the girls. Carmine had followed a few weeks later and he understandably wanted to know why Shirley had pretended to be married to Squiggy.

Shirley had been able to explain why the four of them had posed as two married couples. She blamed the boys for the damages, so they blamed the girls.

"Shirl, I'm sick," Laverne had whined. "I don't wanna testify!"

"I'll do the talking. You just nod."

Her head hurt because of her sinuses, but she could manage that. Perhaps it was as well that Shirley would be the one explaining, because her night in Royal Cactus had been much more innocent than Laverne's. She had eaten ice cream and talked to Squiggy in the truck. OK, and drunk beer, but it wasn't like they'd driven anywhere.

Laverne had given Shirley a faithful account of her time alone with Lenny, up until Laverne's failure to vomit. She told Shirley that Lenny had held back her hair and made little circles on her back as she puked. (Laverne had imagined that earlier, when the nauseous part of her flu kicked in.). She claimed that watching her throw up made Lenny want to throw up, which was why they were still in the bathroom together when Shirley came back, although Lenny made her leave the bathroom so he could have some privacy and she could talk to Shirley.

Shirley seemed to have only a vague memory of her return to the motel room. The next morning, Laverne and Lenny had carried her and Squiggy out to the truck, one by one, still sleeping and in their sleepwear, before Lenny drove quietly westward, not putting on the headlights until they were a few miles past Royal Cactus. Explanations waited until they were across the border in California.

Last night Laverne sat at the head of the stairs as her friends and family held a hearing in her living room. She held her tongue as much as possible and let first Shirley and then Squiggy tell versions of the night in Royal Cactus, both blends of fact and fiction. She knew she and Lenny hadn't attacked each other, and Shirley certainly hadn't attacked Squiggy. If he'd attacked her, she hadn't been acting like it the past couple months, and it seemed like she would've said something to Laverne soon after, or Carmine when he arrived.

Shirley wasn't the only one with a boyfriend on "the jury." Laverne was involved with the apartment manager, Sonny St. Jacques, who was a saint and a jock. He was gorgeous and muscular, but also sweet and honest. And there was no way he'd understand her makeout with Lenny, even though she hadn't known Sonny at the time.

The other reason she let Shirley lie was that the damages came to $158. Shirley knew that of course everyone would believe her over Squiggy. It wasn't exactly an impartial jury, and her lies sounded more plausible. So instead of the girls having to pay $79, the boys would pay it all.

Lenny had not surprisingly let Squiggy do the talking, and he was the first to crack. He exposed Squiggy's story as lies, and yet, he didn't say whether Shirley's story was true or not. Laverne admired his courage but couldn't imitate it, especially not when she was worn down by a lingering flu.

Squiggy made Lenny apologize to both girls on behalf of both boys. Lenny's apology to Laverne was gentle and sincere, even though they both knew he had nothing to apologize for. His apology to Shirley was loud and abrupt. He probably didn't appreciate being presented as a crazy lech who couldn't take no for an answer.

Since Lenny apologized, Laverne's pop got everyone to agree to contribute, which came out to about sixteen bucks each. (Well, Squiggy immediately calculated that it was $15.80, while Laverne's muddled head was still counting how many people were in the apartment.) Nobody had actually paid up yet, but they'd have to soon.

She sighed and sneezed. Maybe it was good to be a little bored now. She was just going a little stir crazy being stuck at home.

She was just about to turn on the TV when someone knocked.

....

Lenny smoothed his hair, even though it was slicked back like usual. Then he knocked with that hand because the other was holding a bouquet.

"Who is it?" asked his favorite voice, still sounding sick.

"Lenny. Can I come in?"

"Enter at your own risk," she creaked, like she was again working the 1954 Fillmore High Haunted House, the Halloween after he had ringworm.

She was not wearing a Vampira costume of course, but the same robe and pajamas as the night before, definitely not the same as in Nevada. And he was pretty sure there was no black teddy underneath. 

"Don't worry," he said, as he closed the door behind him, "I'll keep my antisocial distance."

"What's that behind your back?"

He hesitated and then threw the bouquet at her, like he was a bride about to go off on a honeymoon. Despite her illness, she caught it like the softball queen of Knapp Street that she still was.

She sniffed it although she probably couldn't smell too well. "Wildflowers," she murmured, lightly stroking the petals of the poppies and lupines.

"Yeah, I remembered you like them, and it's not like l can afford a flowerist right now."

"Are they get-well or sorry?"

He couldn't tell her they were I-love-you. Even if she weren't with Sonny, she wouldn't want to hear that. So he said, "I'm still waiting on my apology."

"Shirley's at work."

"Laverne, you didn't admit to everyone that she lied, like I admitted Squiggy lied."

She blew her nose. "They both lied, they both told part of the truth. And you told him about my teddy."

He sighed with weariness, regret, and longing. "He asked me what I imagined you'd wear if you were trying to seduce me."

She laughed until she coughed, and when she could speak, she croaked, "That explains Shirley Feeney as Playmate of the Month."

"Yeah, and I told him it didn't make sense that we would reject you two, especially dressed all sexy, but he said to trust him, so I did."

"Shirley probably knows about us now," she said, suddenly looking serious.

"Because of the teddy?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Laverne."

She shook her head. "I'll make up something. Maybe I puked on my pajama top and had to take it off to clean it."

He nodded. "Just let me know if there's anything I should tell Squiggy."

"I will. Thanks for the flowers."

"You're welcome. I'll see myself out."

"Goodbye, Len," she murmured, closing her eyes and still holding the bouquet.

....

"I know this is bringing Cole Porter to nuked castles, but here." Squiggy set down a wrapped package on the counter of Bardwell's gift-wrapping department.

"For me?" Shirley picked up the box, which was too big for a ring and too small for chocolates.

"Open it," he said, so she did.

"Oh, Squiggy!" she gasped when she saw the little pile of money.

"It's just my share, $39.50. Well, I rounded up to forty."

"But our stories worked and everyone's going to contribute."

"Then put it towards your endowment."

"My dowry?"

"Yeah, along with your very cute face and your sexy purity." He walked away before she could find the words to even thank him.

She never told anyone the truth, not even during the game of Truth a couple weeks later, where she pretended that she thought Squiggy was the least attractive person in the room. (Actually, it was Rhonda, the person she least wanted to touch.) Squiggy confessed to Lenny, once Shirley had moved away with her doctor husband.

Lenny didn't confess in return, although it was usually harder for him to keep a secret. Laverne told Sonny the night after Truth, and even offered to refund his $15.80. He told her to keep it, but he did break up with her and move away. Then she and Lenny spent the next several months flirting heavily without anything definite happening.

They had a picnic at the beach when summer rolled around again, just the two of them, and then something happened on the road back to Burbank.


End file.
